


attention to detail

by liveonthesun



Category: The Locked Tomb Trilogy | Gideon the Ninth Series - Tamsyn Muir
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Swords
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-14 15:20:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28922739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liveonthesun/pseuds/liveonthesun
Summary: Cam is cleaning her swords. Pal has other ideas.
Relationships: Camilla Hect/Palamedes Sextus
Comments: 3
Kudos: 38





	attention to detail

**Author's Note:**

> a while back [blackrose_juri](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackrose_juri/) said, "Pal should eat cam out while she polishes her swords," and i haven't been able to stop thinking about it.
> 
> ty to [orbitalsquabbles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orbitalsquabbles) and [darlingofdots](https://archiveofourown.org/users/darlingofdots) for betaing!

She's sitting on the edge of the bed — _their_ bed, a luxury not afforded to them back home — cleaning her knives when he walks in from the bathroom. His hair is still damp from the shower and he's just got a towel hanging loose around his hips, his skinny hip-bones poking out over the top.

"How much longer do you think you'll be with that?" he asks, putting his glasses back on after wiping the fog from the lenses using the corner of his towel. Cam gets a peek of his thighs as he does this.

She should be used to this by now, she thinks. Should be used to the sight of him half-naked before her, but they aren't able to live together back home and it's still a novelty for it to be such a casual experience. She looks up from her work, lets her gaze linger over his long limbs, and answers, "A while, probably. Though I can always pause if you need me to."

"Oh, no, I don't want to interrupt you," he answers, though he sits down next to her on the bed, and she's not sure how that's supposed to be conducive to her continuing the task at hand.

She's never had problems with focusing, has always been able to keep her mind trained laser-sharp on the task at hand, but sometimes, only sometimes, Palamedes Sextus is able to throw her off-course. He has a way of leaning in and making just enough room for himself in her mind that she can't help but split her focus between him and what she's working on. They take turns pulling at each other, one dragging the other away from the day's work and forcing them into bed. It's a relief when on those nights when she's lost in her mind, he'll come up behind her and wrap his arms around her waist, rest his chin on his shoulder and say, "It's late," or "You can stop now," or "I miss you."

 _It's late_ usually gets her to stop half-an-hour later. She'll give herself ten more minutes if it's an _you can stop now_. When he says _I miss you_ she can't help but drop what she's holding and turn around in his arms, wind her fingers through his hair and kiss him.

He doesn't say anything right now, just sits next to her with his shoulder resting against hers, his eyes watching her hands as they run the cloth down the length of a blade and back up. She lifts the knife to examine it more closely and can feel his gaze settle on her wrist, watching her bones move under her skin as it twists to let her view it from a few different angles.

She's satisfied with this one so she places it on the "done" pile and picks up a dagger the length of her forearm.

It's as Camilla is oiling the blade that Palamedes pushes the hair away from her neck and starts kissing along her jawline.

Her breath hitches and she closes her eyes, hands stilling as she says, "I thought you weren't going to interrupt me, Warden."

"I hope I'm not hindering you," he says, lips moving against her skin, "I can stop if you need."

"No," she breathes out, and his tongue presses against her neck and runs along the line of her jaw.

She picks back up with her work, running the cloth from the hilt to the point. Palamedes's hand is now at the top of her thigh, his fingers pressing in as he continues to run his mouth down the line of her throat. She tilts her head to give him better access, and at the same time drops the oil cloth and reaches for the wax to protect the leather of the hilt. This planet is nothing but salt and humidity, and she's found herself fretting constantly about how it will eat away at the metal and leather she relies on to protect him.

His hand moves up to the crease of her thigh, his long fingers pressing between her legs, stroking lightly against the seam of her pants. She can feel the warmth beginning to pool where his fingers touch and realizes she's been staring at the hilt of her dagger for a few seconds without actually doing anything to it. 

She shakes herself out of the trance and starts working the wax in, but it's not long before she realizes her hand on the leather is moving in time with his hand against her. It's a slow rhythm, almost lazy, and it takes her twice as long as it normally would.

When she finally finishes and sets it down, she has to lean back to reach her rapier. Palamedes takes advantage of this and moves to kneel between her legs, making quick work of her belt and buttons before pulling down her trousers and underwear in one long movement.

"Oh?" she says.

"I hope these working conditions are suitable," he responds.

She considers this, taking in the weapons and supplies neatly strewn around her on the bed. She looks down the length of her body at Palamedes, naked but for his towel and on his knees. He's looking up at her expectantly, eagerly waiting for her response. 

"The angle is off," she says.

He moves quickly, getting up and going over to the cav's cot at the end of their bed. It's covered in the knives she's finished cleaning and he's careful not to knock any of them off as he pushes it to the side where her legs are dangling, leaving enough room between it and the bed for him to slot himself between, returning to his earlier kneeling.

He grabs her ankles and positions her feet on the edge of the cot, and if she sits up and rests her arms on her knees it's perfect — her legs elevated and spread open for perfect access, her daggers and cleaning tools in arm's reach.

"Very good, Warden," she says.

And he raises an eyebrow at her and takes off his glasses and gets to work.

They're both incredibly thorough and meticulous at whatever they set their minds to, which means he has to work all the harder to keep her attention as she begins on her rapier. She cleans it off first, wiping down the dust and grime that accumulate so rapidly in this dilapidated old castle. He licks at her, slow and deliberate, always stopping just short of where he knows it feels best. 

She lays down the cloth and picks up the blade oil, dabbing a bit on a new one to start wiping the blade to protect it from the elements. She makes long, slow strokes, careful to keep her focus on making sure the entire blade is covered and Palamedes slips two fingers into the wet of her, his long fingers stroking inside of her in time to the sound of her polishing.

It's only because of how many times she's done this that she doesn't falter. It's only because of how practiced she is at having a corner of her mind always focused on him that she doesn't lose concentration. He picks up his pace, starts sucking gently on her clit and her breathing becomes uneven as pressure begins to build in her chest.

She only has to hold on for a few more minutes, only has the hilt left and then she can let herself give fully over to the feeling of Pal between her legs.

She works the wax into the hilt, slowly, carefully, despite how much she wishes to be done. A job half-done is as bad as one not done at all. As she twists her hand around the hilt she has to use every ounce of her concentration not to think of his cock, of her hand on it last night, of the way he kissed her when he came and held her close afterwards.

When she finally finishes she sets the sword carefully beside herself and throws herself back on the bed with abandonment. She gives herself over entirely to him, rocking her hips against his face as he fucks her and eats her and she's grabbing at the sheets, grabbing at his hair, begging him to hold her hand between her moans.

He answers her moans with his own, pressing the sound of his need into her cunt. He twists his fingers and presses his tongue against her clit and she comes, his name pouring out of her mouth like it does every single time.


End file.
